Some Kind of Madness
by hobgoblin123
Summary: Still very much the same as the previously posted story, but with the offending lyrics removed. Slash Tarrant/Vryce, as usual...


**Some kind of madness**

Disclaimer: I neither own the Coldfire Trilogy, the song 'Madness' by Muse nor the works of Friedrich Nietzsche (see Gerald's quote right at the end of the story).

Warnings: Slash, but nothing worse than the mentioning of a kiss for a change...

A/N 1: With all my ongoing projects I shouldn't have started something new, but this plot-bunny just took me by surprise while I was listening to the gorgeous song 'Madness', and I simply couldn't resist. The fic's quite short and unambitious, but I hope it's going to soothe the silly season anyway.

A/N 2: Of course I know that we had Gerald and Damien dancing not long ago, not to mention Cagedtiger's older fic. Nevertheless we also had them making love in every imaginable way (well, maybe not in _every_ imaginable way, but as this story is destined to get posted under the rating 'T' I won't elaborate on that topic now, lol...), and if each author had to refrain from a theme done before we would soon have nothing left to write about. Meaning of my ramblings: please don't flame me! As far as I know Morgana's doesn't mind me posting this, anyway. Thanks, hugs and kisses, lovey!

A/N 3: Blargh, it's too hot to write! Sorry for all the grammatical blunders and typos, but it's truly hard to concentrate right now...

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Latest developments:

This morning I woke up just to find a pm informing me that if I didn't delete the lyrics of the song my account would be closed. Copyright infringement, you know... Still fuming I'd rather not comment on it now. Well, at least I was told that the story was good (thanks), the one and only 'review' I've got so far, so maybe I shouldn't be too annoyed, but yet... Anyway I had to find a solution to the problem, and after putting on my thinking cap I decided to post the story anew with the lyrics removed and give you the number of the lines instead (without repetitions and stuff like 'mmmmmadness' and so on). I hope that won't lead to utter confusion, but I have no choice. In time I'll post the complete story elsewhere and inform you about it. It's some kind of madness, indeed...

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_Lines 1+2_

His nose buried in his fifth glass of ale in a row the lines of the song very nearly made Damien burst into a fit of hysterical laughter. After living like a vulking hermit for the last six months he had finally relented to the constant nagging of his colleagues, but accompanying his fellow Healers Steve and Martin and a bunch of giggling trainee nurses to an after-work pub crawl evidently proved to be an utterly silly idea. It just wasn't that used to a life out in the open the smell of stale beer, smoke plus the nauseating mix of several heady perfumes and the babbling of the crowd slowly but surely were starting to grate on nerves which had been already on edge in the aftermath of Gerald's supposed death at the hands of his last living descendant. Nobody had cared to brief Damien that the White Stag mounted live concerts on Friday evenings, and now he found himself a most reluctant listener to a band that evidently had had its days.

In their tipsy state his companions had set their alcohol-fuelled minds on shaking a leg, and after tables and chairs had been unceremoniously pushed aside very much to his dismay Vryce was now faced with several couples twirling round the improvised dance floor to their hearts' content, something he could have very well done without in his current mood. Even after all those weeks which had passed since the destruction of the Hunter's domain the bittersweet memories of the filthy, exhausted but yet so breathtakingly beautiful visage of the man who had faced death with a pride and dignity only thrice damned Gerald Tarrant could muster kept haunting him in his waking hours and his dreams alike, and at the end of his tether Damien was close to despair.

_Lines 3+4_

Encountering that ancient soul residing in a juvenile body on Black Ridge Pass should have given him some kind of closure, should have enabled him to find his peace of mind again after months of unbearable penance, but in fact quite the reverse came more close to the matter. Realizing that a renewal of their acquaintance would jeopardize the adept's hard-won new mortal existence he had indeed tried so hard to let him go, but to his dismay he found that he simply couldn't let the bygones be bygones. If Tarrant had truly died on that wretched day at the Hunter's keep he would have grieved for him until the hour of his death, but some fine day he doubtlessly would have picked up the pieces and started all over again. Knowing that Gerald was still alive but forever beyond reach was an altogether different matter though, and night after night he stared at the ceiling wide awake, building futile castles in the air until sleep finally overcame him in the small hours of the morning. Damien had always considered himself a thoroughly down-to-earth guy, but that somewhat unhealthy obsession pointed to a certain kind of madness he'd rather not think about too closely.

_Lines 5-7_

_That's exactly the problem, you old fool_, Damien thought miserably and barely managed to stifle another bout of bitter laughter welling up inside him. _Why don't you just face the facts that dazzled by your religious prejudices you turned a blind eye to the truth and mucked it up as usual. Admitting that you cared deeply for that vain, arrogant bastard wouldn't have hurt you, but no, you had to hide yourself behind all that piously dressed-up blarney about tolerating Gerald's presence just for the sake of saving humankind from eternal slavery, and now look where your stubborn denial has gotten you. The son of a bitch gave you the marching order as soon as you weren't needed any longer, surely relieved to rid himself of your jarring presence at long last._

_Lines 8+9_

Good question. In fact the warrior knight was completely mystified concerning his feelings for Tarrant. There was no denying that the initial loathing and hatred had changed to fire-forged camaraderie over time, but realization that there had to be something else hadn't dawned on him until Gerald had died on Mount Shaitan. Standing helplessly by as the tall, lean frame in his accustomed silken robes had crumbled into a heap Damien had felt as if his heart had been ripped out of him, and his desperate sobs had mingled with the rumble of the volcano until he had had no more tears to shed. Later on when the adept's bad heart had failed him once again he had willingly offered his life in exchange for Tarrant's, but that act of altruism could still have been attributed to platonic affection for a friend in mortal peril.

Unfortunately the wet dreams with Gerald as the main protagonist which were constantly interrupting his scarce hours of catnap were anything but platonic, and waking up in a state of feverish arousal Damien had frequently wondered if the adept had somehow managed to put a spell of love on him as a wicked farewell gift. Unlike a certain fraction of bigoted fools constantly harassing the religious authorities to outlaw homosexual relationships he had never minded if folks were drawn to the same gender, but the fact remained that he himself had never fancied a man before Gerald Tarrant had turned his life and his emotions upside down.

_Lines 10+11_

Those lyrics could have been written for Gerald and him, and remembering the multitude of heated discussions which had very nearly ended in drawn swords Damien grinned from ear to ear despite his worries. How they had fought and bickered like two incorrigible squabblers while trying to save first Ciani and then the whole vulking planet from Calesta's clutches. The adept most certainly had a knack for rising his hackles with his acerbic comments and haughty condescension, but if Damien was honest he even missed Tarrant's unbelievable vanity, his seemingly infinite supply of sarcasm and his damned hauteur. For quite a while now he'd been suspecting that every now and then the Hunter had picked a quarrel just for the sake of raising his companion's spirits, an astounding if twisted act of compassion for a being who had been denied showing whatever small amount of mercy by the strict rules of conduct his accursed compact had entailed. The warrior knight on the other hand had invariably taken the bait, hiding his growing affection behind his angry tirades and foul-mouthed curses_. What an odd couple we must have made_, he thought wryly. No wonder that witnessing their interaction poor Hesseth had shaken her head in disbelief on more than one occasion and Karril had sometimes seemed close to burst out laughing now matter how deep they had been in the mire.

_Lines 12-14_

Damien vented a sigh. Admitting that his sexual orientation might have undergone an unexpected change in his advanced age was one thing, but the adept's needs were a different kettle of fish altogether. Along with his identity any knowledge whatsoever of their venerated Prophet's love life had disappeared into the mists of time centuries ago, and in fact the former priest had no idea if the founder father of his faith had ever lain with a man or at least had toyed with the idea of doing so. Undead or alive Gerald wasn't a man to encourage nosy questions, and that delicate matter most certainly hadn't represented the number one topic of their conversation. He knew that the Neocount of Merentha had married very young and had sired three children, but beyond that everything was pure speculation. Without dispute quite a few men with certain tastes took a wife just for the sake of an heir and for silencing the malicious tongues but found pleasure in a male lover's arms behind closed doors nonetheless, but the eerie encounter with the shadow of Almea Tarrant on Shaitan had somehow convinced him that the unfortunate couple hadn't just entered into a marriage of convenience.

Be it as it may even if Tarrant indeed wasn't altogether adverse to having it off with a man there was no guarantee that he would consider bedding Damien Kilcannon Vryce of all people, and anyway the question was purely academic. Gerald had slipped away to an unknown destination, and in all probability he would never set eyes on that pretty face again. Muttering a vicious curse under his breath the warrior knight buried his weary face in his hands. Hopefully his colleagues would put down his erratic behaviour on a lamentable incapability to hold his liquor and would leave him in peace until he had regained a semblance of composure.

_Lines 15-19_

"Are you alright, Vryce?"

The slightly husky, composed voice he remembered so well from Black Ridge Pass cut into Damien's misery like a finely honed sword, and in the next instance he was on his feet and whirled around, his heart in his mouth. Dark eyes dominating the androgynous, comely features of a youth at roundabout twenty were watching him intently with a mixture of of curiosity and unveiled concern, and the warrior knight's legs very nearly gave way under him. Dear God in Heaven, that had to be an alcohol induced hallucination, a spawn of his overheated imagination as in those endless, lonely nights he had thought he would go mad with yearning. The adept just couldn't have turned up at a public house like any other average punter, alive and human and so heartrendingly beautiful that it was taking his breath away.

Giddy with excitement Vryce gazed his fill, feasting his eyes on the delicate features framed by a veritable storm cloud of straight hair black as true night and the wiry body dressed in embroidered red velvet and black leather. All at once he was dead certain that this wasn't just a temporary madness caused by long sexual abstinence or his ineptitude to find his way around in a changed world. However it had come to pass he loved Gerald, truly loved him with a passion he had thought forever out of his reach, and in the end it didn't really matter that his former ally against all odds very likely wouldn't reciprocate his feelings. At least Gerald had cared enough to approach him again despite the risks involved, and even if they weren't destined to end up together that precious knowledge would brighten his lonely days until he had breathed his last. "I'm fine, my friend", the warrior knight answered gently and smiled. "I had a hell of a time, but now I'm fine."

_Lines 20-25_

"I'm relieved to hear that. May I introduce myself?" The adept bowed gracefully. "Gerald Hawthorne, at your service. I suppose you'd like to know the name of your dance partner."

Damien goggled perplexedly, resisting the overwhelming urge to pinch himself just by a very small margin. _Dance partner?_ He truly had to be dreaming, but he wasn't altogether sure whether it was a great dream or a nightmare. As far as he knew it was still very unusual both on the western and the eastern continent for two men to publicly dance with each other with the notable exception of certain establishments he had heard about but had never visited so far for obvious reasons. Maybe the custom had been different in the Revivalist period, but with regard to the strict moral concepts of that era he couldn't help but entertaining grave doubts about that theory.

His mind reeling the warrior knight swallowed convulsively. Gerald hadn't had to care about mundane human customs and practice for nigh to a millennium, and maybe he had advanced his proposal in total innocence, but somehow Vryce didn't believe that this incurable know-it-all hadn't been aware of the possible implications. On top of his misfortune the surge of arousal threatening to get the better of him at the mere idea of holding the adept in his arms wasn't innocent in the least, and picturing how his body might betray him in a most embarrassing fashion he felt the cold sweat breaking out on his brow.

"Shall we, Vryce, or do you want me to hand you a written invitation first?"

To hell with Gerald Tarrant aka Hawthorne and his condescension and nerve-racking self assurance! If the former Neocount of Merentha thought that he could order him around like a bloody valet he was in for a rude awakening. "Damned sure of yourself, aren't you", Damien forced out between clenched teeth. "As a matter of fact I don't feel like dancing. I'm outright horrible at it, anyway, and...

"Do you mind keeping your mouth shut for a change, Vryce?", Hawthorne cut off his ramblings, a flash of annoyance passing over his youthful features. "For a man who valiantly battled hordes of nasty demons and offered his life for the sake of a friend you are a remarkable coward. But put your mind at rest. I'm regrettably a tad out of practise, but in all modesty I can assure you that I'm both a very skilled dancer and a good teacher."

"Is that so? Quite bluntly you don't strike me as a fellow possessing the mandatory patience for teaching. You simply could have _asked_ instead of issuing an order, you know?"

"I formally apologize. It won't happen again." Gerald bowed again with a flourish. "May I have the pleasure of the next dance?"

That rare admittance of a lapse instantly took the wind out of Damien's sails. "You're going to find me the most inept pupil you can possible imagine", he chuckled good-naturedly. "That's a fair warning, so don't take the damage to your vulking toes out on me later."

The adept's black eyes were sparkling with unveiled amusement now. "I presume it's worth the trouble, Vryce. Should the occasion arise I'm a _very_ patient tutor indeed, a fact I might be able to prove in the course of the night. All in good time."

Damien blinked, not quite trusting his hearing sense. The seemingly innocent words had been uttered with a seductive lilt he had never perceived either in Tarrant's light tenor or in Hawthorne's huskier voice so far, and if he wasn't completely mistaken his friend's plans for the night went far beyond jigging about and emptying a few glasses of ale together. His knees trembling the warrior knight didn't resist any longer when a slender arm circled his waist in a rather possessive manner and dragged him towards the improvised dance floor.

As fate had it the band went into a slow love song, and while his ears were resounding with a mangled version of 'Only You' Vryce counted his blessings that Gerald contented himself with sticking to the basics instead of demonstrating his ability. Dancing cheek to cheek with the man he had gone to hell and back for was bliss beyond words, and overwhelmed by the feel of firm, male curves pressed tightly to his bulk he was barely able to remember his own name, let alone the complicated steps of the dances presently very much in vogue.

He had just begun to warm to the experience when a determined hand left its place at his back and moved downwards until it came to rest on his behind, pulling him as close as humanly possible without merging with each other. In the next instance narrow hips commenced a slow but very alluring rolling motion against his pelvis, and the flame of Damien's desire flared up to a veritable firestorm threatening to burn the last barriers of his already severely impaired self-control. Holding his breath he ground to a halt and disentangled himself from Hawthorne's embrace. "If you don't want to live with the consequences you'd better stop fondling my buttocks, not to mention writhing as if you had a nubee in your trousers", the warrior knight choked out hoarsely. "I don't have the faintest idea what's going on in your pretty head, but where I come from people would assume that you're trying to hit on me.

"Just so, Vryce. For a man of your intelligence you can be astoundingly slow on the uptake," Gerald replied as cool as you please. "Now that I've clarified my position we can surely resume our delightful pastime, can't we? The night isn't getting younger, and I'm not in the least inclined to put down roots."

Without further ado Hawthorne wrapped his arms around him again, and his brain still struggling to digest the extraordinary news that the adept had the hots for him Damien moved with him to the music like an automaton, not even aware that his colleagues were staring at the only same-sex couple on the dance floor in open bewilderment. So close to seeing his dreams come true he should have been beside himself with joy, but as the initial shock-induced numbness was slowly but surely releasing its hold on him he felt himself succumbing to a wave of naked panic instead.

Loving Gerald didn't necessarily mean turning a blind eye to his faults, and it couldn't be denied that his return to the ranks of the living hadn't changed the fact that he was a headstrong, dominant bastard with a very limited amount of social graces. Walking down the long and winded road of life hand in hand with him most certainly would entail a fair amount of the madness the bloke on stage had so ear-splitting warbled about, but as a matter of fact that was the least of Vryce's problems.

Although his dance partner had made himself perfectly clear that he had set his brilliant mind on picking him up he hadn't wasted any words on his motives so far, not to mention his emotions. It was very well possible that he was just looking for a pleasant one-night-stand without any strings attached, but even if he had something a bit more lasting in mind it was utterly futile to prematurely daydream of a shared future. After all the adept had walked out on him once before, and the old saying 'once bitten, twice shy' doubtlessly contained more than a mere grain of truth.

Slender fingers touching his cheek as light as a feather brought Vryce back into the here and now. "A wise man on Earth once stated that _'there's always some madness in love_'_, but there is also always some reason in madness_," Hawthorne whispered into his ear. "It wasn't logical in the least to seek you out on Black Ridge Pass, but I did it nonetheless. That I couldn't muster the courage to stay at your side and hurt your feelings with my rejection... another mistake which won't happen again. Ever. Does that answer your questions?"

Presumably Gerald would never come closer to uttering the famous three words than he had now, but drowning in those dark eyes which were shining with an emotion he had no difficulty deciphering for once the warrior knight couldn't have cared less. If their love truly was madness they were evidently stricken with the same mental disease, and that was all Vryce needed to know. All doubts resolved and his soul finally at peace he smiled and bend forward for a long overdue kiss.


End file.
